


Seaside

by onceminutos



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Seaside, Voldermort war era, memoryloss!Draco, wounded!Draco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-09
Updated: 2012-07-27
Packaged: 2017-11-09 12:32:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/455488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceminutos/pseuds/onceminutos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do you want to go to the seaside? I'm not trying to say that that everybody wants to go but I fell in love on the seaside...<br/>Draco Malfoy washes up on the seaside with no recollection of how he got there and a badly wounded shoulder. He finds a cabin where a healer boy lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seaside

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to seaside by The Kooks and this sort of came out.

Before he opened his eyes, the first thing he heard was the slow cracking of the waves against the shore. He could listen to the water slither out onto the banks, break at the sand and roll back in calmly only to come out again. It's almost like breathing. It comes in and out, in and out. A cycle that never ends. When he opened his eyes he saw white. All around was white turfs of soft sand. As he blinked away the water in his eyes, he became more familiar with large stretching cliffs and coasts. In the sand small blades of grass poked out. As he looked up these blades became bigger and thicker until far off he could see all was grass. And if he looked on even further he could see the roofs of small wooden cabins. 

Draco tried to lift himself off the sandy beach but with just the slightest push upwards a sharp pain seeped up at his shoulder. He gasped out and went stiff once more. He did not possess a shoulder injury and finding one just now was strange. He tries to think of how he could have gotten it but nothing comes to mind. He can't even recall how he ended up washed up on the shores of some unknown beach. 

He tries to get up once more, but this time but much more carefully. He slowly lifts one side of his body, then the other until he is sitting up properly. His shoulder stings but not enough to send him crippled to the ground. He presses the palm of his not wounded side to the ground to hold his weight as he lifts his legs and jumps up. He staggers around a bit, getting used to being on his feet. Once he's got himself sorted he stands with his hands on his hips and chin up watching his surroundings. 

He takes note of the state of his clothes. His once perfectly ironed white silk button down and black trousers were now ripped to shreds. His jacket was nowhere in sight. Not to mention his shoes were gone. When he looked down to his feet he found them wrinkled and covered in small cuts. His whole body seemed to have scratches. His face, his chest, his arms, his legs.... But the only spot with a serious wound was his right shoulder. Just slightly moving it sent throbbing pain down his whole shoulder-back area. 

The pink skies were starting to turn indigo, and the air much more colder than it was before. He did not want to freeze himself to death and started walking towards the cabins he saw. It took him a while to walk through the mushy sands but once he reached the knee-high grasses it was much easier to walk through them. And when he was almost to the cabins, that turned out to be a small town that stretched a bit farther almost near the mountains, the plain was easy enough to run through. It also was nightfall by then. 

The begining of the town consisted of smaller houses and goat and sheep pens but as he went farther it consisted of much bigger buildings, some were different shops, postal services but not with owls, various bars, and homes. The town was strangely lit but by muggle electricity and torches, not magic. He noted the townsfolk drank starch stuff they would call beer and didn't eat the sort of wizard goods he was used to but lots of common vegetables and fish. As he walked by they didn't pay much attention to him. He thought his attire would catch their attention but they didn't bother as if it were perfectly normal. Strange these muggles. 

"Boy!" A voice called out. He looked up to see a filthy muggle woman flagging him down with a cloth of some sort. "You boy! What is the matter with you? Have you been hurt?" She inquires rushing over to him. Draco freezes and hopes she doesn't come too close. Her greasy hands looked absolutely filthy. 

"Yes?" He replies. He normally wouldn't even bother answering muggles but she was the only one expressing concern for his wound and if he was going to eat and sleep anywhere he might as well be cordial. It didn't mean he had to like them and when the muggle woman came near him he tried not to smell her grimly stink and kept his face wrinkled up. 

"That shoulder looks pretty bad, and look at your face dear, you must be hungry and tired. How did you get yourself washed out like that on the sea? Did your fishing boat take a wrong turn? Or was it the tide?" The woman asks an awful lot of questions. He just wanted supper and some salve for his shoulder. He just shrugged and continued to look helpless. The woman seemed to note how his wound made him uncomfortable and put on a thoughtful look. After a while of thinking she looked back at him with a mellow face. "I can't take care of you myself, I've got one too many children and my healing doesn't work so well but there's a boy not far off, he's quite good at healing, a miracle worker if you ask me. I could give you instructions." Just the mention of the healer boy being a miracle worker had Draco smirking. It was most likely a wizard living in that cabin. The muggles were just to dim to know it, as they always were. He was pleased it would be a wizard healing him, it would much faster. And he could find out where he is. Maybe he would possess some way of getting out of here. Draco had found out he lost his wand in the process and aparating was not an option. "He lives the farthest off, likes to be alone to concentrate on his work, he lives there," The lady points to where the town begins to end towards the mountains and at a small cabin in the trees just a bit on the cliff. "Just keep going 'till you reach it, knock on his door hard or he might not answer"

Draco didn't know how to rid the lady off and went with a cordial nod. It seemed to be enough for the woman for she smiled brightly and rushed back over to the clothes line she had been busy at. Draco, waited no longer and began to walk in the direction of the cabin. As he went deeper the town went from shops and the sort to houses. At first he passed brightly lit houses with loud conversations but as he neared the mountains the houses grew quiet and dark as families slept in them. 

He felt exhausted and much pain as he walked up the small hill that would be the cliff where the small cabin resided. And when he reached the top beads of sweat were washing down his face and his cheeks had flushed pink. He allowed himself to rest a bit then proceeded to knock very loudly on the blue door. At first there was no answer and he wondered if he was being ignored for someone was in there, the lights were on and he could smell some food brewing. But after a few seconds the door swung open by itself and a voice called out "Enter." 

So he did. He entered the small cabin to find it just as small inside. There was a kitchen area, where a pot was brewing over the fire and there hung many racks of herbs and teas. There was also shelves and shelves of potions and ingredients. Not to mention shelves with food. He then saw a small living room which seemed to be mostly used for healing patients. And a door that must lead to the bedroom. 

Out on the terrace, was a hammock. Someone seemed to be in it, holding a telescope and gazing at the stars. He could only see the back of this person, but this person was quite young. He had a small body, messy dark unkept hair and dainty pale white fingers that held the telescope firmly. At this Draco was fairly surprised, he had expected the healer to be old or at least of thirty years of age up. Even though he'd clearly had been called healer boy not man. 

"The stars are nice tonight, as they always are. But the clouds will cover them soon. It's a shame, my friends would have enjoyed them." The boy said in a high clear voice that sounded oddly familiar. It was a voice he heard a lot. A voice he could remember as if he just heard it yesterday. But to whom did this voice belong to....?

"What is it that bothers you? What symptoms do have have?" The boy speaks and this time he turns to look at him. Draco nearly staggers back when he does. Green slightly glazed eyes, thin lips, dark brows raised in everlasting bemusement and that messy hair. It was Potter. 

"I.... Malfoy?"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It was not one of Draco's favourite things to be sprawled on Potter's couch while he annoyingly dabs at his with a painful consistency. He presses the damp cloth to Draco's steaming back once more, still not bothering to be careful about it and stirring loads of pain. He gets two and half seconds to breathe before Potter smacks the cloth back down again. Draco hisses and twitches. He's had enough of Potter's moody cloth smacking. He turns so he is facing him and grabs his arm right as it is about to come painfully back down again. 

"Do you mind being a bit more bloody careful?" He snaps. "Wounds actually hurt when you do that." 

"You know what also hurts, being with a vile, rotten, good for nothing- 

"Get on with it" Draco snaps. 

"-spoiled prat!" He hisses. "And I am being careful, I've got to soak it. Then I can examine it and determine what potions and healing will be required"

"Being careful?!" Draco says. He actually thinks he's being careful. It was quite obvious he had been purposely nearly beating him with it. Hee obviously wanted to arouse the pain not relax it. If he just soaked the blasted thing and gently rubbed it over his shoulder then that would be being careful. Sure, Draco's done some gruesome things throughout their childhood but they were both recently come of age wizards and Potter was doing his job so he might as well be good at it. Besides, he was Draco Malfoy. And no one treated Malfoy's in that manner. Not even Potter, especially not Potter. 

Luckily Potter started being more soft with the cloth, it still hurt obviously but much less. Draco was able to lay without clenching his jaw and hands firmly and by the time he was done he'd gotten used to the small pain. Potter gathered the pot of warm water and the cloth and carried them into the kitchen. He returned with his hands gloved and a promising looking salve. To Draco's displeasure he took a seat next to him, much more closer than he was comfortable with and began to apply the stuff. It felt quite cold but comforting. The way he applied it, smooth and calmly, taking time to run his fingers over the tender muscles, soon felt like a massage and Malfoy found his eyes fluttering. 

He did other things too, all while Draco was semi asleep. He felt him work his fingers through the wounded muscles to feel the injury as he examined it carefully. Potter then pplied some warm herb creme to it, worked some stitching in and then bandaged it up. By the time he finished, he stood up and walked away from the couch. Malfoy had his eyes closed and didn't plan on opening them so he did not know where he went off to. He gradually somehow fell asleep. 


End file.
